Anywhere But Home
by ImpossibleGirlClara
Summary: Katniss Everdeen was a volunteer. But what is there was another? This is her story, Jessalyn Netherfield's story. Rated T because it's the Hunger Games!
1. Jessalyn

**Jessalyn Netherfield**

"Jessalyn!" A bundle of dirty clothes hits me in the face. "I need these washed for the reaping tonight." I groan and start to walk out the door. Moyenne stops me.

"Don't sass me! You're the worst sister ever!" I brush past her while she flips her black hair. As soon as I step out of the house, I fill my lungs with fresh air. Well, it has traces of gas and coal, but it's better outside then indoors, trapped inside the tiny shack Moyenne and I call a home. The narrow, familiar, busy streets of District 12 come into focus. Now, I have to go to the Hawthornes so Hazelle, my laundress of choice, can wash Moyenne's dress. As I step inside the small shack, her little daughter Posy looks up and runs over to me.

"Jessa! I missed you. When you're gone, Katniss comes over and she's not as nice to me." I pick her up and hug her.

"Hey Posy! I missed you too!" Posy is basically my sister, because I come over here so often, and not just for laundry. Hazelle, her mother and the mother of so many others, walks in briskly.

"Well, what do we have here? Miss Netherfield, come to save our lives?" I giggle and hand her the bundle.

"Moyenne needs this washed for the reaping, please." She nods and starts for the little back room that she uses as a washroom. Before she disappears from sight, I stop her.

"Mrs. Hawthorne?" I ask nervously.

"Yes? What is it, Jessalyn?" She answers distractedly.

"Where's Gale?" She turns around to face me fully, with a knowing smile on her familiar Seam face. I'm just asking about my best friend!

"Out with Katniss. They'll be back any minute now." I sigh and prepare for a wait when the door opens. Katniss and Gale are bickering about a trade.

"We could have gotten way more for that squirrel." Katniss whines, adjusting her empty game bag.

"We need to remain on good terms with Greasy Sae" Gale counters in his smooth, deep voice that sounds like home to me. I lean against the wall.

"He's right, you know. She won't haggle too much. And it's only a squirrel." They both stare at me in surprise. Gale runs over and hugs me, my blond hair mingling with his dark.

"Jessa! I missed you so much. Hunting isn't the same without you." I smile at his kind words and I'm on cloud nine. Then, a harsher, less familiar voice brings me back to reality.

"Ahem! What do you mean? You have me." Katniss says. Gale's other hunting buddy flutters her eyelashes, and I want to throw up my meager lunch. I respect her, but we're not really close. Do I care she's flirting with Gale? No. Well, yes. He's like my brother. I want the best for him. Just my brother. Gale blushes softly.

"I've known Jessalyn for a lot longer then I've known you, Catnip. Who do you think taught me to hunt and set those snares?" He says to her, not unkindly. An eyebrow rises, and her gray eyes widen. They're the same color as Gale's. I silently bemoan my unfortunate muddy blue-green eyes. Here, it is a crime to look different.

Paired with my dirty blond hair and small stature, many people say I look like an angel come to save the people of District 12. From what I hear, angels have blond hair and clear blue eyes. I must be the closest thing we have. When I doubt them, I think of my middle name, Grace. According to my parents, it is what I'm destined to bring and be to the District. Their saving grace. But I doubt them a lot. The fact that both of my parents abandoned me as a three-year-old doesn't help.

"So…Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" I mock in a chirpy Capitol accent. Gale snickers, and Katniss holds back a smile and rolls her eyes. Katniss attempts small talk.

"So what are you wearing to the Reaping? I hope my mom lets me borrow one of her beautiful dresses, from the apothecary days." I'm surprised. She seemed like a girl who had her feet on the ground and her head firmly on her shoulders, not one of the merchant girls who will talk forever about boys and clothes. Then I realize she's trying to bring it back in my comfort zone. But that's not me either.

Gale silently scolds Katniss with a stern look. I look down, and inspect the worn leather hunting boots of Gale and Katniss.

"I guess I'll wear my usual reaping outfit," I state softly. The dress I have worn to every reaping is an originally pink blouse that is now faded rose, with multiple stains and rips, and a tattered white skirt. Both of them look at me.

"Oh no, not that old thing." Katniss says and I blush.

"No, you can't wear that." Ms. Hawthorne says decisively. We all jump and see her standing by the door. None of us had seen her.

"We'd let that go on much to long. We all look ratty in the Seam, but that was nearly indecent! I'll find you something much better," she continues. "Hmm… something light…airy…I got it!" She runs into the small room where she does her washing. When she comes out, in her hands is a very light cerulean dress with a delicate lace bottom and cream-colored sash. Katniss, Gale and I all gasp. Katniss extends her hands to touch it, but draws them back sharply. Ms. Hawthorne hands the garment to me. The soft fabric feels like water underneath my working, imperfect hands.

"Well?" She asks, trying to gauge my reaction.

"I've never seen anything so beautiful." I answer honestly. "But where did you get it?" I ask.

"Occasionally, the richer customers give me old clothes. I was saving this for Posy, but she's not big enough yet, and by the time it fits, it'll be old and dirty." She gently puts the dress in my arms.

"I'll give this back to you after the reaping," I promise. She smiles, but we both know my promise is a promise. I never go back on my word, no matter to whom or about what. The petty promise to a four-year-old will always be kept.

I finish carefully tying up my combed hair in a blue ribbon I found in Moyenne's room. She won't even notice its absence, and won't remember it was ever there. Suddenly she storms into my room. I remember an ancient proverb my other friend Lassa Lehart taught me. 'Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear.'

"Jessalyn! What are you wearing to the reaping? I can't have you look horrible if you go to the Capitol. That would be so embarrassing, for the whole District! " She finally looks at me. "Where did you get that dress?" She asks, dangerously softly.

"Mrs. Hawthorne lent it to me," I say. She throws her hands up in the air.

"So now we're charity! Wonderful." She rants on and on and I just daydream, trying to ignore the nervous feeling in my stomach. Thirty entries in the reaping glass balls say Jessalyn Netherfield on them in light pencil. Moyenne looks at me, apparently done with her lecture.

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again. " I say flatly. She misses the sarcasm in my voice and goes to get ready herself. I take in a deep breath and look at myself in the mirror one last time before standing up and walking out the door.

I head towards the town square, where the reapings are held every year. The Justice Building in the center is decorated with bright, colorful, cheery banners proclaiming the start of the 74th Hunger Games. I'm early; the roped areas for the children in the reaping are empty, and people are milling around the square, talking to friends and family, sending good hopes to all the qualified kids, and special wishes for the twelve-year-olds, who are together in a clump, and are looking scared out of their wits.

I scan the area for Gale, my friend Lassa, or even Katniss. I can't spot any of them, so I talk to Madge Undersee, the Mayor's daughter, for a while. She's quiet, rather like Katniss usually is around people. I feel people glancing at me in my new-looking dress. I stand out in the crowd of hand-me-downs and rags. It makes me rather uncomfortable, all the watching eyes, and I cross my arms across my chest and try to disappear in the steadily growing crowd. After well wishes for Madge, and the same for me, I set out in search for Gale. But I don't see him, and I take my place. And wait for the sick, twisted, deadly ceremony to begin.


	2. Gale

**A.N Hey fanfiction readers! Sorry the A.N on chapter1 didn't work. And I had this nice one about this being my first fanfiction and a sob story too! And you didn't get to read it! (oh, the horror) But this is, and I would appreciate reviews. Updates may be a tad erratic, cuz of school and dance =) Songs I listened to while writing this: Wild Horses by the Rolling Stones and Can't Help Falling in Love with You by Ingrid Michaelson (sp?)**

**Gale Hawthorne**

I think I love her. Jessalyn, that is. I've known her almost my whole life, or the part that matters. She brings me up when I'm down. Her brightness lights up a dark room more efficiently than any gas lamp. Her beauty could make a blind man smile. She's perfect, at least for me. Neither of us is perfect. I straighten my ragged, yet clean shirt and glance at my reflection in the shard of mirror one last time. Today I'm going to tell her. After. When all of us are relieved and giddy it wasn't us. She'll have no choice but to respond happily.

I'll tell her in the aftermath. Unless one of us two isn't here. Unless one of us is selected for slaughter like a cow out of a herd of hundreds, and shipped off to be murdered in the guillotine while the Capitol sits and laughs, congratulating the Gamemakers for wonderful entertainment and wait impatiently for the next year of misery. I know neither of us could live in the Hunger Games.

I shake my head, hoping to shake out the bad thoughts. Earlier, when I was in the woods, hunting, with Katniss, neither of us broached the subject. We chose to see it lightly. If you think about it, you're lost. I head out the door, and realize I was almost late. People have stopped wishing luck upon others, and are going to their places. I quickly walk towards the group of eligible boys, fenced in with a yellowing coarse rope. I pass Madge, looking so pretty and innocent in her clean, new, white dress. Katniss, holding Prim's hand and looking scared, for herself and her beloved sister. I choose not to disturb her.

And Jessalyn, standing alone, hugging herself. Her sapphire eyes stare longingly at the horizon, as if hoping for a better place, somewhere out in the wilderness that's not Panem. She looks so beautiful in her almost new dress, like an angel exiled from Heaven. Her grace is evident even by standing still. If I had doubted my feelings for her now, I would never doubt them again.

The picture could be an old painting, one that is heartbreakingly beautiful. One that makes you cry and smile through your tears. A melancholy butterfly, a bittersweet flower. I reach out to touch her arm, but decide not to break her stance. Her profile is perfect, and she looks so sad and wistful, that something tells me she wants to be left alone. I drift back to my few friends in my group.

As the Mayor stands up, I daydream while he tells the story of my homeland, Panem, rising from the bloodied, war-torn, ground. Haymitch Abernathy is introduced as the only living victor from District 12, and the crowd roars at his drunkenness. I don't understand why they laugh. Sure, his buffoonery may impress for a short period of time, but they can't forget what happens soon. For after he leaves, two kids will be sentenced to a fate worse then a bullet to the heart.

A slow, sure death, caused by starvation, torture, madness, or whatever else the Gamemakers invent this year. Only two people have won from our District; all our tributes are murdered while the rest of Panem is forced to watch. Then, the home District of the last remaining tribute is privileged with delicacies, such as sugar, and necessities, such as coal, grain, and oil, while everyone else starves to death.

The Games are only popular in the richer districts, but for everyone else, they are torture. For the Capitol, who doesn't have to supply tributes, they're a source of entertainment. For a young boy in District Two, it's a lottery, a chance to show off on television and win money and a life of luxury. When I look up, Haymitch has been ushered off the stage, and the tentative laughter has stopped. The true reaping of souls has begun.

As Effie Trinket steps up, the tension is nearly tangible.

"Happy Hunger Games!" The crowd is silent. She bounces over to the girl's reaping ball. The sparkling glass shimmers in the light, but the torn, curled, and grimy paper slips inside contrast greatly. Her stupid pink wig is off-kilter, and I slightly smile. Glancing at Katniss, I see her doing the same, and we share a short moment before I turn away, suddenly struck with panic. What if Katniss is called? Or Jessalyn? I couldn't watch them die. It would kill me. And them. But the name Effie reads off isn't Jessa's. Or Catnip's. It's even worse.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

Katniss's younger sister. MY younger sister. The girl Katniss hunts for, the person she cares about most in the world. The little girl that belongs to everyone in the Seam, the delicate-looking child who has nerves of steel, and has saved a life more than once has been chosen. And now her loving sister has to watch her death on national television, her dying and Katniss not being able to do a thing. Katniss is paralyzed, frozen in fear. The crowd makes general grumbling noises, as usual when a twelve-year-old is reaped.

This may be the only time when some people realize how cruel the Capitol is; when they send children who have just grown up to fight to their death. Katniss snaps out of her grim reverie. But her instantaneous volunteer clashes with another's voice. One I know well. Jessalyn Grace Netherfield's voice, saying the words that freeze my feet to the ground, make my blood stop flowing, and my heart stop beating.

"I volunteer for Primrose Everdeen!"

**Y'all saw it coming, right? Yeah….probably the last predictable part. Oh, and if you think Jessalyn's a Mary-Sue, PM me or review! Even if you don't think so, please review!**


	3. Peeta

**A.N. I am so so sorry that I haven't updated in forever! It's that time of year with all the breaks so teachers give you SO much hw to make up for it! I was up to 4 hours a night! Thank you if you reviewed. My responses:**

**zStar: Yeah, I've heard that before. Don't worry, I'm working on the Cinderella thing. Thanks for reading!**

**Okay, for anyone saying Katniss is mean, I'm not trying to defend OOC-ness, but 1: Katniss was never portrayed as 'nice' and 2: This is Jessa. She doesn't really like Katniss. So this is what she's seeing, but this is not necessarily how Katniss really is. **

**Sorry for long A.N!**

**Song for this chapter: Grenade, Bruno Mars**

**Peeta Mellark**

Reaping day. The only day we have District pride. The day when my father would hand out a loaf of bread for a single squirrel. I mull over these thoughts while standing with my friends. Jace and Lan people-watch, pointing out the people who look 'weird' or strange. They guffaw over the Hawthorne boy, who has nobody to talk to.  
>"All his friends are girls," Jace informs us. Lan sniggers, and I remain silent.<p>

"I heard he poaches outside the fence everyday. With weapons," Lan says gravely. I knew that. But do they know that his dad's dead, and he has a family of five to provide for? It's unlikely. I just smile blankly, while they move on to Katniss Everdeen, who's keeping a hawk's eye on her younger sister.

"She hunts with that Gale, and has a depressed mom," Lan snickers. With the jab at Katniss, I lose it.

"That's not something to LAUGH about! And leave her alone. You guys know I kind of like her." They both look at me, and start laughing at someone else. I do like her, ever since we were both little kids. I remember seeing her for the first time, and told my dad that she was the one I was going to marry.

"Look how Gale's staring at Jessalyn Netherfield. " Jace points out. They all stare at her for a second.

"I see why. Everybody is," Lan points out. I look, and understand. She's talking with a Seam girl called Lassa, and wearing a new dress. The blue compliments her skin. I don't really understand the sudden attention. The dress does the work for her. She's mildly pretty. Not really drop-dead beautiful. That's Katniss. I stare at Katniss's elaborately braided hairdo, and notice that Effie Trinket is starting the actual reaping.

"Ladies first!" Not Katniss. And it's not. It's her sister. I know that's going to kill her. But instead of the silence that would usually fill the square, two completely different voices fill the empty space.

One belongs to Katniss. As I send silent prayers, I hear the other; Jessalyn Netherfield. I never knew Jessalyn cared for Prim. I guess Jessalyn is okay, but not better than Katniss. She could survive the Hunger Games. I try to get closest to Katniss as possible, so I can talk to her and comfort her, but as soon as I get over to Katniss, something catches my ear.

"Peeta Mellark!" Effie announces. No. This is not happening. What if I don't make it? I'll never be able to tell Katniss my true feelings for her. That would be my greatest regret. As I make my way up the wooden steps, I see my mother and father standing beneath me. My father nods at me, wishing me well; and my mother buries her face in my father's chest in wailing sobs. She obviously doesn't believe I'll be returning. But does anybody?

I see the faces of my friends, past and present, flash in my head. Jace and Lan look stricken, their fun having ended abruptly. Gale is comforting Katniss and Prim, who look traumatized. I feel a pang of jealousy, but turn instead to study Jessalyn. I'm going to win this. Win it for Katniss. If I come home victorious, I'm positive she'll fall in love with me. Jessalyn's small. Tiny. Been underfed most of her life. Not pretty, clever, or witty enough to attract sponsors. She'll be killed early on. I could kill her myself. She's a sitting duck for the larger, stronger, faster tributes form Districts 1, 2, and 4. But so am I. I'll have to get in with the right group.

Effie motions for us to shake hands, and we do. Her grip is weak, like she's barely there. I offer a half-smile, but she doesn't return it. Suddenly, people grab us, and we're escorted to the Justice Building. Maybe Katniss will visit. I allow myself the happy thought. But then the people come. And they come. And come. My parents, who cry and hug me and tell me that they love me. Lan and Jace, who don't know sympathy and don't know what to say. Plus other people, ones I'd never spoke to that know me as the boy that frosts the cakes. It seems everybody wants to pay their respects to the boy with no volunteer, and no hope of surviving. And then, when everyone I know and love is gone, Katniss Everdeen steps in the room. She gingerly makes her way closer in.

"Good luck, Peeta." It's the first time anyone said that; as opposed to We'll miss you, or Goodbye. I take it in, soak it up. But I know what I have to do.

"Katniss?" She looks at me, and I gather my courage.

"I…" She gives me a funny expression, and I continue.

"Katniss, I really…"

"Okay, visiting time is over, little guy." Two Peacekeepers are ready to escort Katniss out. But I'm not done! She bids me goodbye, and walks out the door. My heart sinks. How will I tell her now? Next time she sees me, I'll be on television, being prettied up, and then made a pawn in these elaborate chess games. They look at me, and I look at them. They hustle me out of the room, and onto the shiny Capitol train.

Jessalyn is crying, yet smiling through tears, and is making no attempt to hide her tearstained face. How interesting. Her strategy? Likely. She could definitely play up weak and weary, with her small stature and delicate, tired features. My strategy? Unknown. But one that will help me win. Even if I have to kill Jessalyn myself to do it.

**Aww! Peeta/Katniss is so sweet! Please review/PM! The more reviews I get, the faster the updates come!**


End file.
